enough to receive the deadly missile in the chest.
      Duril then jerked loose the grapnel and tossed it down to the battlement, narrowly missing O'Cuire, who had to sidestep to avoid being brained by it. "Go on!" he shouted. "Get her the hell out of here! I'll cover you!"
      Enraged, Sieghard of Schürstab fled to a safe distance. "Kill them both, but I'll have the head of the man that harms the girl!!" he bellowed.
      Timeras ducked another flurry of humming bolts, this time closer than he cared to admit. He even felt the sting of one brush past his cheek.
      "Damn fool heroic bastard," he muttered, and picked up the hook. Anchoring it again, this time on the outer wall, he tossed the line through an embrasure. "All right girl, now we..." his words trailed off as his attention riveted on the doorway to the barbican. The door slammed open, disgorging a knot of armored soldiers, one of whom was outfitted in blackened mail, with a solid steel breastplate.

 
 
A full, visored helm shielded the knight's features, and he wielded a blackened hand-and-a-half 'bastard' sword that mirrored the Rogue's own. O'Cuire's eyebrow cocked up half a notch. "Oh-ho!," he thought, "Methinks a worthy adversary, ...perhaps." "Get down that rope, girl", he growled.
      She shook her head fearfully.
      "Now, damn ye! I've nae the time tae be arguin' wi' ye aboot it! Dinnae make our sacrifice a vain one!" Those were the last words he ever spoke to her. Without even a look back, O'Cuire turned and strode forth to meet the foe.

* * *

      Sieghard looked up to the battlement and chuckled. "A timely arrival, Wildenstain! I had wondered where you were. Kill the dog, but spare the girl, she's of no use to me dead." The black mailed warrior nodded, and the soldiers began to shuffle forward.
      Unbeknownst to all, on a secluded hillock less than a league distant to the north,

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